Invisible But Heard
by Aliada
Summary: "You didn't talk to me," the voice said, sadly, and Fili nearly jumped out of his skin. Then, he wanted to slap himself. What was it today with forgetting things? And shop owners? (written for WinterFRE2020)
1. Invisible

_**A/N**__: __This story was inspired by the following prompt: 'There's an old house at the end of the lane that's not abandoned, but no one ever sees the occupant. One day Character A finds out why.'_

_A book shop isn't a substitute for a house, the house will appear later on. It's just that I couldn't bear the thought of confiding poor Kili to four walls and had to give him more space to breathe in :)_

Generally, Fili wasn't curious about overly suspicious things and just left them be. It was safer this way. That rule seemed especially reasonable in light of the fact that he's barely had the chance to adjust to the new location that was about to become his new home for the next year, at the very least. It was a nice, simple house with no redundant luxury. Cozy enough for a proper relaxation, but not expensive enough to require a rigid set of working hours. In other words, it was a perfect solution for someone who had no desire to wear himself thin in pursuit of money, but was in dire need of escaping social distractions and focusing solely on fulfilling his end of the bargain.

On the surface, his story was bland enough: a writer who had lost his inspiration amidst other entitlements but, for some frankly insensitive reason, wasn't given a reprieve in the form of a deadline extension. It was also a believable cover-up version, so he just went with it whenever anyone asked. The truth, however, was a little more entertaining. It was indeed accurate that he couldn't to stay in his city flat, which obviously needed to be paid for. Unfortunately, unfinished books didn't bring money to their creators, and he hated the mere thought of an advance payment, almost as much as he hated the thought of continuing to stay in that flat, alone and with no means of freeing himself by going somewhere busy. That last bit was not publicly revealed, but, if Fili was honest with himself, it might have been the core reason behind his decision.

The lack of inspiration wasn't something that bothered him on a frequent basis, and it wasn't the case this time. He wanted to write, and he felt engaged enough to translate that desire into the increase in word count, which was basically the second major to-do thing in his field of work. Having only published a small book of short stories, he never really considered himself a professional writer. Something that could be called 'profession' took much more years, and more effort than he was giving, or even prepared to potentially give. It was definitely one of his life milestones, though. Was it paramount to his success? He had no answers for that. All he knew was a sudden, sharp need to escape and, by doing that, open up a new page of his life. At first, he'd entertained a mostly ridiculous idea of turning it into a mutual writing experience. But that would require a bond, and he had a shortage of these at the moment. Escaping for the sake of escaping was also too indulgent. He would certainly regret that later. All things considered, a final decision was relatively quick. He would work, to the best of his ability and, by doing that, avoid a self-made guilt-trip. The rest would be left to chance when, or if, it was willing to appear.

Could that chance be a strange scene he was witnessing now? He had no idea, but his free-spirited side was quickly leading him in the direction of the potential discovery.

He's just had the time to unpack, shovel things around, with the hope of re-arranging them more decently later, and go out in search of something to eat. As one would expect from a small, undemanding town, the streets were narrow and modestly-looking. Still, his eyes were instantly drawn to the crooked book shop with a hopelessly blurred sign. Admittedly, his need of food was much stronger than his need for new books and, subsequently, new distractions, but he could never resist. Maybe he could hunt for some research materials while he is at it? It couldn't hurt, could it?

The door gave a plaintive squeak, but opened easily enough. He half-expected to hear a ringing of bells above his head – a trademark of small, cute shops, but instead, his senses were overwhelmed with an intense smell of chamomile. Apparently, the owner fancied chamomile tea. The thought was innocent enough, but the feeling evoked by it was almost unsuitably unpleasant. Getting suddenly attacked by the images of ill-fated endings to the 'small town' stories was more than ridiculous, especially in the middle of visiting a shop, but here he was, feeling a cool touch of uncertainty wade where only too-recent feeling of confidence used to reside. Still, he scolded himself for being silly and closed the door behind him.

It was a spacious enough room, considering a rather meager-looking exterior. There were two more doors which seemed to lead to smaller rooms. He'd not be surprised if the space was packed with books, but it wasn't the case. There was definitely a decent amount, but it wasn't overflowing. By the look of them, the books were old, probably used before. In fact, it reminded him more of a library than a shop. By the time that thought appeared, the danger alarm in his mind subdued completely, replaced by a sudden, but very familiar thirst for a new adventure. Even if it was only a fictional kind of adventure.

Before he could push through the awkwardness of calling for someone to acknowledge his presence, one of the back doors opened slightly, as if uncertainly, revealing… no one?

"Do you wish to buy something?" the voice asked, before Fili could consider the strangeness of the situation.

"Um. I haven't chosen anything yet, so no. Not right not, at least."

Was it one of those shops that didn't let you leave until you bought something?

"Sorry, I can be too forward at times. Just generally excited about people buying stuff, I guess. So feel free to ignore my question."

Fili supposed he could do that. But ignoring that voice was going to be much harder. For some odd reason, it reminded him of sunshine.

Fili dismissed the ridiculous thought and cleared his throat.

"It's totally fine. I-I will just look around, then, I guess. If I see anything I like, I will…"

"Talk to me about it?" the voice asked, uncertainly, and Fili felt a strange pang in his chest.

"Yes, of course. If you wish."

"I do," the voice sounded pleased, and the pang disappeared, replaced with a sudden warmth.

Fili tried to clear his head enough to make sense of situation, but it seemed like the only thing he could do was to proceed gradually from one unexpected turn of events to another. Well, he wished for an adventure, didn't he?

The exploration was worthwhile. It distracted him from overthinking, and his mind was continuously supplied with new, exciting ideas, further fueling his sense of discovery.

He's been at it no less than half an hour but he had yet to see a single hardcover. There were just piles and piles of paperbacks, arranged in a highly peculiar order. Single-author books could easily be found at different sides of the room. There wasn't any thematic consistency, either. Yet still, he felt there had to be some semblance of order to all of this, even if it wasn't instantly noticeable.

There was one more oddly fascinating thing: he couldn't remember a single title, however hard he tried. Was it some very local literature? He wasn't a language and lit major, but he had always been an avid reader and had little trouble memorizing book titles or at the very least plots. Neither of these were even barely familiar to him. He wasn't usually against the idea of wandering into an alternate universe, but he wouldn't mind some rational explanation, either.

After a few more minutes, he wished that he had at least taken a scrap of paper and a pen. If he walked out of this shop and it disappeared, no one would ever believe his crazy adventure. Not that some scribbles on paper would be much of an evidence, but one day, when he is old and his memory is poor, they could become a considerable consolation by assuring him that his life wasn't that trivial, after all.

The last thought made him chuckle and remember one crucial fact. Wasn't this a shop? If It was a shop, it means that he could actually buy things. Somehow, that fundamental truth got lost amidst his surprise, and its rediscovery made him feel silly and excited at the same time.

He didn't know how much time has passed. It must have been nearing an hour, which meant that he had to pull himself together, choose a few books and take care of more urgent matters. His stomach was on the verge of growling, and would soon begin eating him from the inside if he didn't cooperate and fed it.

It took him five minutes to make a final choice, which involved three massive books. He did have the money, but he wasn't sure if it would be enough. There were no price tags on the books.

"You didn't talk to me," the voice said, sadly, and Fili nearly jumped out of his skin. Then, he wanted to slap himself. What was it today with forgetting things? And shop owners?

Under natural circumstance, that statement (complaint?) would've been odd at best, and yet Fili couldn't quite fight the sudden feeling of guilt that followed.

"Um. We can talk now. If you want?"

The voice huffed, sounding almost petulant.

"You were going to ask me about price tags and then go away. Not exactly talking time, is it?"

Yes, definitely petulant. Sulky even.

Fili rubbed his forehead, not quite sure what to say. Under natural circumstances, he would just make a joke and be on his way, but that voice, and the effect it was having on him, definitely didn't fall under the category 'natural circumstances'.

"Look, I'm so hungry that I'm not sure I will be able to maintain a standing position much longer. And I need to… um, explore these books. If you want, you can come with me and help me find something to eat. Talking in exchange for a town tour, how's that?"

He wasn't sure why he didn't want to bother the owner with book questions, but the mere thought was making him uncomfortable for some reason. Anyway, what would he even say? "Sorry, but I think these books do not generally exist? Maybe I'm wrong, though?"

The strangeness of the invisible owner would pale in comparison to that statement, and he's had enough adventures for one day.

"I can't leave the shop."

Sad again. Fili sighed.

"And the books are for free. You don't have to pay money. Just take whatever you want."

Fili squinted his eyes towards the door, but he still couldn't see anything, however much he tried.

"I don't have to pay in money. But I have to pay in something else, right?"

A delightful chuckle followed, and, against all reason, Fili felt himself relax.

"You're quite clever, aren't you? If you agree and take these books, you will have to come back and talk to me. That's the payment."

"And if I don't?"

"Well, you will have no more books, then," the voice answered, just as delightfully.

"Like, in general?" Fili asked, barely keeping the mirth from his voice. He could also play this game.

"Maybe," the voice answered, mysteriously.

"Maybe doesn't do it. If I understand correctly, we're making a deal here? All terms and conditions have to be specified. Yes or no?"

The voice went silent for a moment, and Fili thought he heard a little growl.

"No. I wouldn't be that malicious, what do you think? In fact, it's a little offensive that you even have to ask. Write your book, or whatever, in peace. You will only lose the books you've taken from this shop."

"Sounds more like a library to me," Fili answered, whereas a thousand of questions appeared in his mind.

Did he just nearly sell out his potential book? The thought sent shivers down his spine. Also, he how did the owner even know about the book in the first place? His head was beginning to hurt.

Probably, he should've just left the books alone, but for some reason, he couldn't. Couldn't refuse that chance at a discovery, and definitely couldn't let go of that voice by giving up future encounters. Anyway, it was a sealed deal now.

He took the books, suddenly uncertain.

"What's your name?" he asked, after a short moment of hesitation. After all, it was only logical to know the name of the person you're dealing with.

Silence at the other end made him a little unnerved, and before he could revoke the question, the answer was given.

"Kili."

Kili? So now they had rhyming names on top of it all? Fili wanted to laugh.

"And I am… but wait, I think you already know?"

Judging by the huff, he'd managed to offend the owner for the second time.

"Why would I? I don't usually spy on people. And people don't usually… come here at all," the last words were just above the whisper, and Fili had to strain his ears to make sense of them.

And he did. Actually, now it was making a whole deal of sense.

All of a sudden, his chest felt cold.

"I'm Fili. And I'm sorry. I will come back. And we will talk."

A quiet humming only served to squeeze his heart further.

"Yes. But be sure to actually read these books."

"What? It wasn't among the initial conditions!"

"Well, it is now, I guess."

Now, it was Fili's turn to huff.

"You are a librarian, after all."

Kili chuckled.

"Far from it. Go before your stomach explodes."

"I never said it would," Fili answered, indignantly.

"Judging by your bitter complaints about hunger, it was a close enough thing."

Fili weighed the book in his hand, making sure to look demonstrative.

A loud squeak was his answer.

"If you even think about doing that, I will make you stay here. Forever. And… and drink tea with me."

That was as far from the believable threat as humanly possible, but the word about tea made Fili pause. Suddenly, he was aware of the chamomile scent once again. It was no longer sharp, he must have adjusted to it, but it was still there. Suddenly, his anxiety resurfaced.

"Why do you drink that tea?"

"I don't know… I just do? Why?"

Kili sounded unsure, and Fili didn't like that one bit.

"No idea," he tried to shrug it off, but the suddenly tense silence didn't quite let him.

"This scent… it gives me a strange feeling."

"Fine. What do you drink? Tea with lemon, tea with berries, tea with-"

Fili felt a chuckle rising in his throat.

"Coffee for me, I guess," he answered.

"Yes, of course you would drink coffee, wouldn't you? I think you just enjoy contradicting me."

"Well, I should have at least an ounce of power in our arrangement, shouldn't I?"

"You do." Kili said, quietly, and Fili realized that he'd better go away before their jokes turned into something neither of them was comfortable with.

"Go eat, write you book, whatever."

He half-expected to be reminded of the deal arrangement, but nothing followed. Fili cleared his throat, mumbled an awkward goodbye and went out, never catching quiet sniffles that followed him.

He felt overwhelmed. And confused. And wonderful. His physical hunger was long gone, replaced with hunger for the voice still ringing in his ears.

Quiet snowfall has developed an absurd, but striking resemblance to the sunniest day of spring, and he was fully content with the illusion.


	2. Heard

_**A/N: **__This chapter mostly introduces new questions rather than solves the old ones, but it also contains a crucial shift in Fili's emotional state, which had to be explored, sometimes more patiently than I would've liked :D Anyway, I hope you enjoy this installment and, as ever, any feedback is more than welcome!_

It's been some time before Fili was able to shake off the haze and finally make his way to the shops. Choosing groceries didn't help much, either. He felt like an engine, set in motion by an invisible hand to never be allowed any distraction or rest. His mind kept spinning, almost relentless in its consistency. Shopping with the books tucked under his arm was awkward at best, but he couldn't convince himself to let them out of his sight. It felt dangerous. Wrong.

He'd be relieved if he could call it a simple curiosity. People tended to be curious, then they learned a secret or two and quieted down, until their minds were attracted by something else. Fili wished, quite fervently, that was the case. But he also knew that curiosity wasn't the sole reason. This went deeper. He had a feeling that even if he were to go home now and discover that none of these books were in fact readable, he still wouldn't let this matter go. His rational side was telling him off for the sheer ridiculousness of these thoughts. But _his _voice… Kili's voice made it all unimportant.

Having acquired two massive bags, and a handful of suspicious looks, Fili left the shop and allowed himself a long, tense sigh. The snowfall was far less intense now. The snow-covered road was a little slippery, but not slippery enough to cause any real trouble. Which was a relief since Fili didn't think himself capable of anything as advanced as watching his every step. His sole goal was to reach his home, lock himself away and throw himself at the books, as quickly as humanly possible. He felt hungry. Famished. Desperate for the barest scrapes of knowledge that would give him at least the most basic understanding of what had just happened. He had no reasonable ground to hope that the books would be somehow connected to Kili's story, but that didn't deter him from hoping.

He nearly slipped and fell as he was reaching for the entrance door, stopped only by the conveniently placed grocery bag. Something released a warning crunch, and Fili belatedly remembered that eggs required a far more careful handling if one wanted to avoid making a preliminary omelet.

He struggled a little with the key, but eventually it turned smoothly enough. The warmth inside was almost suffocating. Fili opened the window and settled the mistreated bags on the table. Well, at least he hadn't lost any food on his way. Hopefully.

Fixing a cup of tea without the electric kettle wasn't nearly as romantic as one would think, but he still managed to produce more or less decent beverage. Dumplings also appeared rather edible. Having taken the edge off hunger and having secured a relatively clear head, he filled his cup one more time and took away the books. Although he made absolutely sure no one saw them, a strange feeling of jealousy refused to subdue, filling his mind with the bizarre images of keeping the books for himself and maybe even starting his own library. Fili rubbed his temples.

Start a damn library? Was he even serious? Only a few hours ago he was determined to get some real work done and finish his long-suffering book and now he was getting side-tracked by the thoughts about libraries… and attractive voices. And he hadn't even met any of the others. Would they give him the idea of going into space? At this rate, it seemed very much probable.

Feeling sufficiently amused and somewhat calmer for it, Fili opened one of the books, and the image made him freeze on spot. He was very sure that he picked this one himself, and he knew the exact reason why it attracted him in the first place, and yet, it just wasn't the same book. He thumbed through it impatiently, trying to see some familiar places, but it changed nothing. It was an entirely different book.

He was certain of the answer before he could even ask the question, but he still checked the remaining two books. They were all identical. The size and the shape remained intact, but it was the only thing that did. Everything beyond the cover had changed completely, and now he was left with three copies of… something? He had never seen this book before, and at the moment, he had no desire whatsoever to explore it. Instead, he closed it and let it fall on the table with a dull thud.

It seemed that his adventure was short-lived. He didn't know how that trick was done, or if it was even possible, but he didn't care. It was the time for him to focus on his real job.

He managed to unpack and turn on his laptop without sparing a single glance for the books. He refused to acknowledge the fact that his movements were much more jerky and impatient than usual and it would be a big miracle if he was capable of writing anything in such a state. Still, it was no matter. He would try anyway.

Rationally, Fili knew that anger was counterproductive and frankly stupid. It wasn't like he was promised anything. He didn't pay for these books, so the only thing wasted was his time. And his trust. Which he shouldn't have given in the first place. He would know better now. And he would be more than glad to close that deal by going over there and _talking_. He had plenty to say, and he would make sure to do as little listening as possible.

The books caught his attention once again, as if eager to tease and taunt, and he shoved them into the bag. He would just let them sit there and he would definitely take his sweet time before going back to the shop again. After all, reading _three books_ required plenty of time.

Brushing away the sudden feeling of sadness, Fili opened the document and started re-reading the fruits of his labor. It was a tedious task, but he supposed it was a small enough prize to pay for keeping his writing coherent.

* * *

Kili was sitting and drinking his tea. It wasn't an unusual thing for him to be doing, but his thoughts were far from usual. It would soon be the time for him to go home. Suffocating, _lonely_ home. The mere image of it was filling him with dread. His hands were shaking a little, and his legs weren't all that steady. It wasn't even the thought itself that scared him, but rather the fact of its existence. He couldn't remember having such thoughts before. 'Before' had been measured and steady. He wasn't sure he liked it. He wasn't sure he had any feelings at all. He used to have them, at some point, but not anymore. He had no conscious awareness of the shift, he only knew that evoking them was in no way pleasant and, therefore, best avoided.

He sniffed once again and rubbed his eyes, feeling the remains of wetness on his cheeks. He didn't even know why he was upset. He couldn't name the feeling. But it still didn't let him go, however hard he tried.

Was it fear? If so, what was it that he feared?

One look out of the window, on an empty, snow-covered ground, gave him his answer. Alone. He was afraid of being alone.

* * *

Fili has been typing away for more than two hours, but his thoughts were still stubbornly clinging to a far less relevant thing than the occasionally blinking screen. He snatched his fingers away from the keyboard, giving it one last brush, and fought the urge to squeeze his head until it stopped hurting. He knew that would mostly be a fruitless effort, much like his automatic, on-the-go writing. It still would have been better than nothing. That is, if he knew where it was that he was going. The words on the screen showed no indication of giving him anything resembling an answer.

Fili rubbed his temples. Was it a futile effort coming here? Would it be better if he… A gush of suddenly biting air from the window was effective in cutting off the thought but Fili knew from the experience that it would return to haunt him, and it'd be much more nagging than before. Much more vicious.

He knew what bothered him. Of course, he did, but it did nothing to amend the situation. Kili had lied to him, and he was now sitting here in an aimless attempt to seem productive, whereas only productivity he was capable of was maintaining a tireless, spinning circle of never ending 'why's'. Why did Kili seem so genuine before? Why was it so ridiculously effortless? And more importantly, why did he believe in that effortlessness in the first place. The last question would've been a very rational, proper thing to ask oneself. The only problem was that Fili didn't. Couldn't bring himself to.

_Because he was wrong?_ Was that the answer? But if that was the case, it meant that none of his earlier feelings were relevant, or true. His mind was calmly, and quite patiently, telling him that no other option could be logical, and yet accepting that felt like the worst kind of wrong. And Fili couldn't bear to be wrong anymore.

* * *

The crunchy sound of snow under his feet reminded him of his earlier near-disaster with the eggs, almost succeeding in lightening his mood.

The stop was still in place, and, judging by the light in the window, so was its owner. Fili covered the distance to the door and grasped the handle, suddenly aware of the irritatingly mellow feeling in his chest. He couldn't afford that now. He had a sound purpose, which involved freeing his mind of any further distractions, and since he was practically useless in his attempts to store the entire incident to the periphery of his mind and label it a 'bizarre story to remember on a rainy day', a direct approach would have to do the job.

The door gave a quiet squeak, echoing that uncertain, almost vulnerable sound from earlier today, but didn't give in. Fili tried one more time. To no avail. It was clearly locked, and mostly likely from the inside. Fili stepped back and looked the shop over in one last attempt to make the sense of the situation. It seemed to look the same. It had the same sign and the same door, there was no doubt about that, and yet, its whole stance seemed to change (if a shop could even have a stance, that is). It still looked crooked, but no longer haunted. And if he allowed himself to completely descend into the realm of insanity, he could even call it 'hopeful'.

He didn't think he could rely on his memory, not with something so bizarre, but he was quite certain that the more compliant door from earlier didn't have anything resembling a letterbox. This one, however, most certainly did. No longer able to fight a peculiar mix of agitation and curiosity, Fili tugged at the lid, half-expecting it to behave like the door did. Instead, it opened easily enough, and Fili's fingers pressed against a a piece of paper. A letter? He almost laughed at the thought. On closer inspection, it was indeed a letter in a sloppy, almost a child-like envelope that made Fili grin. There was no seal, but a surprisingly unambiguous 'For Fili' was written neatly enough. At this point, it would come as no surprise to run into a letter intended for anyone_ rather _than him.

He was fully content in telling himself that a slight trembling in his fingers was due to the cold, but a relentless race in his chest was telling a different tale.

"For Fili", the letter insisted again, forcing Fili to release an undignified sound. He closed his eyes for a moment, in a futile attempt to turn them into more reliable witnesses, and then opened them again, realizing abruptly that he might have been a bit rash in referring to this writing as 'neat'. If anything, any neatness seemed to disappear completely closer to the end, revealing a clearly impatient hand.

_Are you upset with me? I suppose you are, so I was wondering if it would be too bold of me to ask for forgiveness. If the answer is yes, our deal is off. If the answer is no, come and visit me at this exact place. There is much you don't yet know, and even more that you want to learn._

_Your friend, Kili._

Fili looked through the text again and snorted. 'Friend', unlike other words, was written with almost excessive care. Two last sentences were clearly manipulative. Intended to kindle his curiosity and lure him in. All the same, he couldn't fight his genuine surprise at Kili's unexpected willingness to call their deal off. He took the books in exchange for his return, and a talk. So could he simply return the books unread? Would that be an automatic deal-breaker? And more importantly, would he be able to do that?

The bag with the books was weighing unexpectedly heavily on his shoulders, and the increasing wind didn't make it any cozier. His body was telling him to leave, and yet something inside him disagreed with a ferociousness that rivaled his increasing worry of freezing to death. He couldn't leave and still expect to sleep at night.

Struck by a sudden inspiration, Fili opened the lid once again and felt almost no surprise at finding a pen inside. Pressing the letter to the door surface and putting down an almost calligraphic _'The answer is no', _he felt no regret. When a barely audible rustling signified receiving of the response, he felt none, either.

The trembling in Fili's hands never stopped, but now it had an almost pleasant ring to it.

The shop didn't take long to transform. All in all, it was a matter of no more than a couple of seconds. The colors dimmed further, the sign disappeared, leaving a big-sized lamp in its wake, and Fili was now faced with a ridiculously small door, just high enough for him to come in and, hopefully, come out afterwards. It resembled one of these fairytale houses he laughed at as a child. Thankfully, it wasn't made of sweets, but it still was a definition of an out-of-this-world object if he had ever seen one.

The door opened, revealing no one.

"Is it my no or your no?" the voice asked cautiously.

"Your no. Your letters are just as confusing as you are. I bet you couldn't even understand the answer because you forgot your own question."

Fili didn't know how he could do that. Fume inside, feel real, genuine anger and then switch so quickly to a laughably effortless teasing, as if they were just two friends chatting.

"So you do forgive me?" There was a layered urgency to that question, and Fili could only hope that his decision didn't turn out to be a bad one.

"Not yet. But sparing me this hell of a weather would be a nice step in that direction."


End file.
